Riding the Breeze
by AM83220
Summary: Third installment in "The Icarus Reversal" series
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This is the third story in "_The Icarus Reversal_" series. Please read "_The Icarus Reversal_" and "_Testing His Wings_" first or you'll be completely lost.

I'm afraid I can't give you a schedule for updates on this one; the best I can say is that they'll come when they come.

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The descending sword was blocked by another, the two crossing at the eye-level of their wielders. The younger of the two combatants wore a fierce smile as he lashed out with his right leg in a kick to his enemy's torso. The other fighter partially doubled over and the Warrior Prince immediately disentangled their blades, bringing his own down and around in a swing which knocked the opposing weapon wide before using the backstroke to slam the hilt into his foe's skull. The man dropped to the grass with a groan.

With the immediate threat thus disposed of Solan threw a quick, anxious glance behind him and was relieved to see Justin doing well against the last remaining outlaw.

Nonetheless he turned and raced across the meadow toward the battle. As anticipated his approach distracted the bandit long enough for Justin to disarm him and subdue the ruffian with a fine strike to the solar plexus.

"Are you all right?" Solan asked his friend, just to be sure.

"Fine," Justin replied. "You watch them and I'll get the rope," he said and took off in the direction of Alpha Seven.

Regarding the four sprawled forms of their victims the Warrior Prince couldn't keep from scowling in derision. The men had been largely unskilled, and worse, had acted as if the swords they held were their weapons instead of recognizing that a fighter's entire _body_ was his weapon! How could they not realize something so clear, so obvious?!

Their ignorance had made for an easy victory, but it was hard to take any pride in crushing the likes of these. Thank the gods he had Justin to spar against, or he'd have forgotten what it was like to face a worthy opponent!

That last errant thought made Solan wince. Given his destiny he really needed to break himself of the habit of thanking the gods, and the sooner the better. Besides, the god truly responsible for Justin's being here was one he would never thank, no matter how much the evil deity had done for him.

He shouldn't even be grateful for Justin's presence in the first place, given how horrible it was for his friend . . . but that was a feeling he couldn't help.

Moving cautiously in case one of the bandits should suddenly recover enough to lunge at him the tall, tanned muscle-boy gathered up their weapons with his free hand, tossing them into a pile at the edge of the meadow. Justin returned with the coil of rope and the duo began binding their captives' wrists together. Three had already been secured when the fourth man staggered up and fled. Solan's left hand darted instinctively to his chakram, but at Justin's sharp calling of his name and warning look it fell away. Sighing and sheathing his sword in its back scabbard he sprinted after the fleeing man.

Dark-haired, bearded and of below average height, the man wasn't running with any real swiftness and it was clear he hadn't fully recovered from whatever blows Justin had used to down him. He reached the edge of the treeline and disappeared into the woods.

Solan followed without pause, passing into the woods and expecting to catch a glimpse of the fleeing fugitive up ahead. Instead the man lunged at him from behind a tree to his right, swinging a torn-off branch at his head.

Taken by surprise even his speed and reflexes did not enable him to wholly duck the blow, the piece of wood grazing the back of his head.

Jarred by the impact, rocked by the unexpected pain and abruptly in survival mode Solan broke the man's nose with a palm strike and caught the branch in his other hand. Stepping forward he kneed his foe with great force before seizing the doubled-over attacker's hair to smash his other knee up into the man's face, sending the adult sprawling onto the ground.

After kneeling down and putting a solid arm-lock on the moaning, bleeding outlaw's left arm, Solan forced his captive upright, brutally twisted the limb behind the man's back, and marched his stumbling prisoner back to Justin and the others.

Justin seemed shocked by the extent of the man's injuries as Solan let the battered bandit collapse to his knees before the Blue Turbo Ranger.

"Solan, what-"

"Put your other hand behind you or I'll rip your arm off," the Warrior Prince snarled. The man did as he was told and Solan's gaze shifted to Justin. "Tie him up," he commanded tersely.

Justin also did as he was told, leaving the angry son of Xena free to address the other bandits.

"We're taking you to justice. Try to resist or run and you'll end up worse than him!" he threatened.

All three looked in unison at their moaning friend's shattered nose, missing teeth and black beard soaked with blood. One paled, another swallowed nervously and the third quickly looked away.

Yanking the man up Solan shoved him forward.

"Move!" he ordered, pointing towards the road where Alpha Seven was waiting, and they did.

"What happened?" Justin asked urgently under his breath as they followed behind the beaten quartet.

Solan could feel his fair skin reddening and was glad their prisoners were facing away from him.

"He was waiting for me," he confessed quietly, hating every word. "He swung a branch at me and I didn't dodge in time."

"You're kidding! Where did he hit you? Are you okay?"

"In the back of the head, and I'm fine," Solan insisted, echoing Justin's earlier reassurance.

Justin dropped a few steps behind his friend and began parting the veil of Solan's well past shoulder-length blond hair to inspect his scalp for any damage. Solan hissed as Justin's probing fingers brushed the point of impact, resisting his trained and nearly instinctive urge to slam an elbow back into Justin's torso, flip the Ranger over his shoulders and stomp hard on the fourteen year-old's head.

"You're probably going to have a bump back here," Justin explained apologetically. "I can't believe he got you!"

Solan stared down at the ground he was walking on, saying nothing. He couldn't believe it either. Even Justin was only rarely able to lay so much as a hand on him! Allowing himself to be struck by a common thug left him with a sick hot feeling of furious shame.

Reappearing at his side Justin tried unsuccessfully to make eye contact. "Don't worry about it, Solan," he said comfortingly. "You beat him anyway and that's what matters."

"I never should've have let him strike me," Solan insisted, knowing it was true.

"He surprised you. You can't expect yourself to be perfect."

Solan shot the Turbo Ranger a brief, sideways look which said, "Yes, I can," as clearly as if the thought had been put into words.

"Maybe we should add surprise attacks to our sparring scenarios," he suggested. At his urging they'd expanded sparring from just facing off with swords and bare hands on equal ground to a variety of different situations, increasing the fun and value of their sessions.

"So you want me to try attacking you with no warning?" Justin asked skeptically. "Solan, you have to work to keep from smashing me when I _touch_ you without warning!"

"I haven't lost control in a long time!" the twelve year-old protested. A few seconds passed in silence as the group of six reached Alpha Seven. The pale white horse had his head down, grazing contentedly as he waited for his young masters to return.

"You're right, though, it is too dangerous," Solan conceded. In responding to a surprise attack it would be almost impossible to keep his training from taking over, and Justin could get badly hurt. Look at what had happened to his assailant here! He wasn't about to risk doing anything like that to his friend. Not again, not ever.

Besides, his reaction time hadn't been the real problem; it was simply that he hadn't expected the bandit to wait and attack him, just as he'd never imagined Kenny could return to life after being killed. Both times he had underestimated his opponent and _that_ was the real flaw he had to try to overcome.

How, though? How did you anticipate the unexpected?

"Head toward Piraeus," Solan commanded their prisoners, the nearby town which the bandits had been preying upon. He took the reins of Alpha Seven in one hand, gently leading the horse along with them.

They had acquired the animal in the aftermath of their final conflict with the Red Valley Gang. After returning Apollo's Urn the two of them had scoured the surrounding countryside for the group without success. A few days later they'd given up and started on the way back to Tripolis and the armory.

The ambush had been sprung about three miles from Corinth. Six bandits, half the gang, had come screaming up at them from out of roadside cover. With odds of three to one each Solan hadn't hesitated. He'd split the skull of one of Justin's attackers with his chakram, blinded one of the men charging him with a thrown handful of dirt hastily scooped up from the road, skewered a third on his sword and seriously wounded a fourth before beating up the bandit who had just regained his vision.

Feeling the warm blood flow out from where his sword impaled the body and watching the light of life flicker and fade from his victim's eyes hadn't been easy, but he'd done it. He had reminded himself over and over again afterward that he was a born killer, a destined destroyer; he had to get used to taking lives, whether he liked it or not.

Justin had managed to handle his two men without fatally injuring them and quick, threatening interrogation of the prisoners had revealed that the gang's leader, Wayon, had been determined to take revenge for the loss of Apollo's Urn. Half the gang had been here, watching the road to Athens, while the other half was camped out near the western road leading further into Greece's interior.

Justin and Solan had returned to Corinth and had even been able to secure help from some Corinthian soldiers in turning the remainder of the gang's ambush back on them. Solan had had the pleasure of taking down Wayon for the second time and he and Justin had both been hailed once more as heroes by the people of Corinth.

Thinking back on that victory helped a little to salve the wound inflicted on his pride today. Before they'd set off again he'd told Justin he thought they needed a horse. The ambush had come while they were wearing their backpacks and there simply hadn't been time to shrug the things off. Being forced to fight with a full backpack was a handicap the Warrior Prince never wished to experience again. Better to get a horse to carry their supplies, leaving them free at all times for action!

Justin had clearly liked the idea of not having to carry a pack anymore, but had worried about the cost and care of a horse. Solan had promised to be the one to take care of it and the city-state of Corinth had been good enough to sell them one of the horses taken from Wayon at an excellent price. Solan had insisted Justin name the animal and his friend had chosen to call it Alpha Seven, a name which had puzzled him until Justin had explained about Alpha Six, the little metal man who had kept the Power Chamber. This Alpha Six sounded similar in form to Talos, the great iron colossus which was said to protect the island of Crete, except he was apparently far smaller and his function was to serve rather than to defend.

Metal servants made in the shapes of men! Every time he thought he had finally grasped the full measure of Justin's Elysian world, the teenager would casually reveal yet another undreamt of marvel. He never tired of hearing stories of Justin's Earth; he could sit and listen for hours on end, though Justin almost never spoke at such length. The older boy seemed to _need_ to talk of his lost home, yet at the same time was often left saddened once he had done so.

Solan had contemplated telling Justin of his resolve to return the Turbo Ranger home once he became a god, but he didn't know if such a distant promise would be enough to cheer his friend, nor was he at all sure he could successfully mask his own feelings at the prospect. So instead he usually tried to cajole Justin into an activity, like going for a swim or taking Alpha Seven for a ride. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.

"After we turn them in we need to go back to Athens," Justin announced as they trailed their captives.

"To find where we're needed next?"

"You can do that. I have to return to the philosophers' forum at the agora."

"You're going back there? After how they treated you?" Solan demanded in genuine outrage.

"It's still the best way I can think of to share my information! I've got to keep trying, Solan! I can't just sit on what I know, not when it could help so many people!"

No, of course he couldn't, but thinking about Athens' wise men made the already agitated boy's blood burn and his fists clench. Justin had related five days ago how he had finally tried to contribute to the discussion there, only for one of the philosophers to sneeringly dismiss him as a "beardless barbarian boy" amid a wave of laughter.

The Warrior Prince had been more than half ready to teach the arrogant fools a lesson, but Justin had forbidden it. Instead the two of them had left Athens the next day and journeyed south to find and deal with this small but murderous group of outlaws. He'd thought Justin had given up on the Athenians.

"Maybe this time I should go with you," the preteen Prince of Warriors offered darkly. They wouldn't laugh then, at least not more than once . . .

"Solan, no! You can't_ intimidate_ them into listening to me! That won't work! They have to decide on their own."

Except they had already decided, and they'd decided wrongly! Justin knew more than all of them put together, and still they had rejected him! It wasn't right!

Justin's task truly was the more difficult of their two missions. Whereas he could simply find and defeat whatever threat he found out about, gaining fame and recognition for his success, the Turbo Ranger had no such swift way of proving himself. Even Justin's weeks of study hadn't been enough to make the Athenian philosophers accept him, given his obvious youth and foreignness.

Perhaps, as the weight of Solan's name grew in light of the heroic deeds he would perform, Justin too would gain in prestige as his ally, at least enough for people to listen to him? Hopefully so, but that would take time. Justin wanted to make a difference _now_, a desire Solan could readily empathize with.

"And if they won't?" the Greek boy asked pointedly.

Justin took a deep breath, let it out. "Then I'll just have to keep trying."

None of the criminals attempted to escape before they reached the town, which was probably fortunate for them given the mood of their child captors. Solan and Justin turned them over to the law and after receiving the authorities' thanks they decided to try to make it to Athens before night fell.

Solan couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that they weren't returning to the armory. They'd put a lot of work into getting the place fit and ready for them. Solan had taken on the job of shifting all of the crates of weapons over to one side of the building, while Justin had managed to sweep most of the thick layer of dust out the front doors. They'd cleaned out the cauldron so it could be used in preparing meals, opened the windows to let in fresh air and sunlight, and gotten rid of the many spiders and mice which had taken up residence in the abandoned structure.

The loft had been designated as their sleeping area and it was also Justin's preferred spot for studying, while Solan found the large amount of space now available on the main floor ideal for trying out some of the crated weapons, like spears, axes, and morning stars. He had no implanted skill with any of those implements of war, but with practice he was learning how to handle them and thoroughly enjoying himself in the process. He also found the open area well-suited for much of his daily exercise and training regimen.

He'd tried to do his entire routine there except for the chakram throwing (the poles outside made a good target for his circular blade), but one of the wooden pillars had creaked alarmingly when he had first used it instead of a tree for resistance. Justin had insisted he not try that again and for good measure had told him the story of Samson, with special emphasis on how the captured and blinded hero had pulled down the pillars he was chained to and collapsed the Temple of Dagon on top of himself and the Philistines.

The tale had especially enthralled the twelve year-old, not the least because he found the main character so easy to identify with. Like Samson he too had been touched by the hand of a god, transformed in body to be a legendary warrior. He, too, knew what it was like to be betrayed by a woman he had cared about, and he could understand bringing an entire temple down upon your own head when it was the only way to slay your enemies. He even had long hair like Samson, although it wasn't his hair which was the source of his power.

Justin had mentioned previously that the Power Rangers' old base had been known as the Power Chamber. To Solan that had seemed a fit title for their dwelling too and he'd suggested it once they had finished the first day of cleaning.

"'The Power Chamber?'" Justin had laughed. "Solan, we don't have an extradimensional tube, we don't have teleporters, we don't even have any electricity! Why would we ever call this place the Power Chamber?"

"Because it has us!" Solan had argued. "Together, you and I, _we're_ the power!"

Didn't Justin have the knowledge of thousands of years into the future? And wasn't he a warrior fated to destroy the gods themselves? If the two of them weren't powerful then Solan didn't know the meaning of the word!

Justin had been a little taken aback by his assertion, blinking once and remarking, "Well, I don't know about you, but I don't feel very powerful."

"You are! What you know will change everything!" Solan had declared, and Justin had for some reason looked touched by this simple statement of fact.

The morning they'd left Athens, though, his friend had looked crushed. It had been awful seeing him like that again, chillingly reminiscent of how Justin had been after first arriving in this world. Happily the challenge of trying to locate and apprehend the outlaws had given him something else to focus on and had helped to lift his spirits somewhat.

It was Justin who came up with the idea of watching the local agora and seeing if one of the bandits might be buying food for the gang there. He had called this a "stake-out", a confusing term even with Solan's magical understanding of Justin's language. Yes, they had indeed been outdoors, but there had been no stakes involved anywhere!

He'd decided not to ask. Justin never hesitated to explain and never deliberately tried to make him feel stupid. Sometimes on things like this, though, he did laugh, and the laughter stung.

The scruffy-looking man they'd identified as a possible bandit and followed had led them to the criminals' camp and the completion of their mission. Now, as the two trudged along northward on this fair, windy day after their success, the brown-haired boy appeared grimly determined, but no longer seemed to be openly despairing.

"You're sure you don't want me to come with you to the forum tomorrow?" Solan asked again.

"I'm sure," Justin replied firmly. "You concentrate on finding out where the next trouble spot is and we'll meet for dinner."

"And do sparring afterwards, like last time?"

"Yes, Solan," the older boy answered, a sliver of a smile on his face. "I don't want to miss out on my daily dose of butt-kicking."

"You really are getting better, Justin," Solan assured him encouragingly. "It's gotten to the point where it's almost a challenge to defeat you sometimes!"

"Gee, thanks," the former Ranger said wryly. "From you I'll take that as a compliment."

"How else could you take it?" Solan questioned in honest curiosity.

Apollo's chariot descended swiftly toward the Earth, but with Alpha Seven carrying all of their gear they were moving fast enough that they'd probably make the city shortly after nightfall.

" . . . . Once we were all in the cockpit of the Megazord Tommy asked me if I wanted to take this one and when I said yes he gave me the controls! So I told her, "You'll pay for ruining my birthday, Burpa!" and then-"

Justin broke off abruptly as a man appeared on the road up ahead, at the crest of the hill they were approaching. Solan frowned, disappointed and irritated by this interruption to Justin's tale, right when it was reaching its climax! What his friend had told him weeks ago about the effect he had on civilians had been painfully burned into his brain, though, and so he made an extra effort to school his features into an expression of welcome.

"Hail, traveler!" he called out. "Who are you, where do you come from, and where are you bound?"

"I am Marius from Athens, and I am bound to Salamis" he answered, his own expression wary.

It was a dismayingly familiar reaction and Solan again had to work to keep his annoyance from surfacing. By his side Justin remained silent, letting him carry on the conversation. His odd accent marked him as a foreigner and he often let Solan do the talking when they were speaking with others.

"We have just come from Piraeus. The city is well and prosperous, especially with the bandit group preying on the area having been brought to justice."

"Glad tidings!" the man beamed. "Would that I could bring you equally good word from Athens!"

"Why? What is happening there?" Solan asked as they drew level with Marius, his pulse quickening with the possibilities which immediately sprang to his mind. Had a bandit group started stirring up trouble? Had a monster like the chimera attacked the city? Was the Persian army landing on Greek shores in another attempt to conquer and sack the polis?

The man, bearded, mustached and overweight, shook his head in sorrow. "Hercules, son of Zeus, is standing trial for half a dozen crimes under Athenian law."

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	2. Chapter 2

Notes: My sincere and heartfelt apologies to my readers (both of them!). I know I warned updates would be sporadic, but I never expected them to be THIS sporadic! I have not and will not give up on this story or this series; rest assured there are plenty more tales to come after this one. Your next wait will not be anywhere near as long.

Part of the reason for the delay was that I've been helping another author with the series he is writing in "The Good Son" fandom. He's an excellent writer and I would encourage you to read "The Second Face", the first story of his series. I think you'll enjoy it; I know I did!

Now, on with the saga!

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Since being informed of his newly imposing appearance and manner Solan had been working hard to seem less threatening. Though he couldn't hope to hide what he really was to save his life, by smiling more frequently, keeping a safe distance between himself and the other person, and using a calm, friendly tone he was doing much to put those he spoke with at ease.

It was an important skill for him to learn, especially since there was no Zordon here to call them when there was trouble. They had to rely on word of mouth to learn where they were needed, and that meant talking with travelers.

Justin's accent, lack of knowledge of Greece, and still imperfect understanding of the language meant he was largely unsuitable for the role of gathering information. Like so many other things, this was just something Solan could do better than he could.

And Solan had been doing fine with Marius, right up until the point when the man mentioned what had happened to Hercules. Then the Warrior Prince had stepped forward, blue eyes flashing, and demanded in a harsh, threatening tone to know what Hercules was being charged with.

Poor Marius had actually stumbled back before stuttering that he didn't know all of the charges, just that one of them was involuntary manslaughter for the death of a man impersonating Hercules who'd died attempting to save some children from a cave-in.

"Please forgive my friend, sir," Justin jumped in. "He means no offense; he is only upset that a hero of his should be so treated."

"Of course, of course! Hercules is a hero to all of Greece!" the man declared, but his nervous gaze hadn't shifted from the visibly fuming blond muscleboy.

"A good day to you and may blessings follow your path," Justin answered and Marius took the opportunity to nod, mumble "To you as well," and hurry past them down the road.

"Wait!" Solan cried after the man and started to follow, but Justin darted into his friend's path. For a single incredulous instant he actually thought the larger boy might knock him out of the way.

"Justin, we need to know what's going on!"

"He didn't know anything more, and you scared him!"

Solan flinched at that, just a little. "I didn't mean to," he said quietly. "But this is _Hercules_ we're talking about, Greece's greatest hero! Whatever they're accusing him of it's not true!"

"Probably not. We'll get the whole story when we get to Athens."

"Right," the taller boy concurred, his expression now one of fierce determination. "Let's get moving!"

Justin went over to Alpha Seven and opened one of the packs, removing his sneakers and depositing his boots in their place. He rarely wore his tennis shoes or modern blue garments from the tournament except while at the armory, all too conscious of how strange they would appear to the people of this world and time. He mostly got by with a pair of sturdy leather boots they'd purchased and several of Solan's old breaches and vests. In terms of wardrobe the Grecian youth kept strictly to his cross-belts and leather breaches now. Even if he had wanted to wear his vests again, they never would have fit. The new depth of his chest, breadth of his shoulders and size of his arms made the garments utterly useless for Solan, like a child's clothing given to a man.

Justin wouldn't risk putting on his shirt or shorts, but he was going to chance the shoes. There was no footwear in existence anywhere near as comfortable and if they were going to be moving as fast he assumed, it would be best if he had his sneakers on.

In fact the teen genius had actually _underestimated_ the speed of their progress. Solan set such a killing pace that for Justin it was merely a question of whether he or the horse would collapse first. Whichever one of them fell, though, the young Warrior Prince looked ready to pick up and _carry_ the downed party member to Athens rather than stop and rest for one freaking minute!

The overgrown twelve year-old was by nature perpetually in motion; always running, climbing, sparring, flipping, exercising, swimming, or practicing, to the point where he put Justin in mind of a gas molecule given human form. Usually during joint activities Solan was thoughtful enough to make allowances for his companion's lesser stamina and energy, but not this time.

If he couldn't hope to match the younger boy's stride, Justin could at least take some pride in the fact that he was doing a better job of keeping up than he could have managed before his abduction. Thanks to the constant exercise he was in the best shape of his life and he'd finally hit a growth spurt! At long last his body was beginning to mature. Of course Solan still stood a good inch taller than he did and was exponentially more muscular, but at least the former Ranger no longer felt like his best friend's little kid brother.

Four hours in the heavily breathing teen shot a quick look of longing at Alpha Seven's broad back. He'd picked up more bruises in the week he'd spent learning to ride that horse than he would've gotten from a whole month's worth of sparring sessions with Solan. Nevertheless he'd stuck to it and was relatively confident of his equestrian ability now. Of course riding a horse couldn't begin to compare to the thrill of driving a Zord, but horses were the most advanced form of land transportation available in this world and he needed to know how to use them. With his legs aching he was sorely tempted to mount their noble steed; unfortunately Alpha Seven was Solan's responsibility and he had been firm that the horse should not be required to carry their gear and a person at the same time in anything except a dire emergency.

The twelve year-old really did take good care of their new beast of burden. He brushed Alpha Seven down at the end of every day, made sure the animal had enough water to drink and grass to graze on wherever they stopped for an extended period, and spoke soothing words to it when it seemed nervous or frightened. Part of this was probably an innate understanding of horses picked up from being raised in a centaur village (presumably this was also where Solan had gotten his apparent talent for riding). The rest, Justin suspected, came from guilt over the horse he had so recently killed.

They hadn't talked much about the events of that day, though perhaps they should have. Solan's inability to say for sure whether Micah's death had been on purpose or accidental remained a genuine worry for Justin. If the Warrior Prince was going to be a hero he had to be able to control himself and hold his natural aggression in check. You couldn't kill people out of anger and still remain on the right side.

With that already in mind Solan's subsequent slaying of two Red Valley Gang attackers had made Justin fear the Warrior Prince was abandoning their agreement altogether, so it was a relief when he had taken of the last two alive. Later Solan had argued passionately that with three to one odds against them he'd had no choice but to kill. Justin hadn't been able to dispute the point, and was further reassured when Solan had taken all of those he faced in the second group alive, even Wayon.

Tara's treachery had likewise gone unmentioned. That he'd let her go after what she had done spoke volumes about how Solan had felt about her. Justin would have tried to comfort his friend if the other boy had appeared depressed, but the twelve year-old had carried on much as before, seemingly unaffected. Broaching the topic might merely be gouging open a wound which had already begun to heal.

God knew they'd both already experienced enough emotional trauma to last a lifetime! Sometimes it amazed him that either of them could muster the will to get up out of bed in the morning. If they didn't have their respective missions and each other, perhaps they wouldn't.

"Solan, how about we stop to rest?" Justin asked for the third time, his tone more one of command than inquiry.

"Now? Can't you keep going?"

"I can't race all the way to Athens without a break, Solan! Besides, it's dinnertime; aren't you hungry?"

"We shouldn't stop for dinner! We need to get to Hercules as soon as possible!"

_Solan_ wanting to skip a meal?!

"What are you planning to do when we get to him?"

"We'll save him, of course!"

One incredulous glance was all it took to know exactly what the preteen Prince of Warriors meant.

"No! We are NOT breaking Hercules out of jail!"

"Why not?" Solan asked stubbornly. "We know he must be innocent, and we've already seen how stupid the Athenians can be!"

"Because we'd be breaking the law! I though you wanted to be a hero, not a criminal!"

That was a low blow, but given that he was practically ready to drop in his tracks he wasn't in the best of moods. Besides, he needed a quick way to shake Solan out of the idea of mounting a jailbreak.

"So we just let the Athenians get away with this?"

"Solan, do you think Hercules needs us to rescue him?"

"Yes!"

"You don't think he could break out on his own if he wanted to?"

Solan started to reply and then stopped.

"What if he's staying there of his own free will? Do you think he'll be happy about us breaking the law for him then?"

"So we can't do anything?" the Warrior Prince demanded, his tone equal parts anguished disbelief and angry frustration.

"I didn't say that. We'll find out what's going on with the trial and we can try to visit him in jail, if they'll let us. Once we know more we'll see what else we can do, but let's gather what information we can first, okay?"

"Yes, O Blue Ranger, Ranger of Knowledge," Solan intoned with a small, reluctant smile.

"That's right," Justin agreed, though hearing his title was an unpleasant jolt. During his last meeting with the Astro Rangers they'd told him "Once a Ranger, always a Ranger", but trapped here without his morpher it was a hard dictum to believe. They could call their new base the Power Chamber if Solan wanted, but with his recent rejection in Athens he had seldom felt less powerful.

"And I know I need to rest now," Justin finished, plopping down on the side of the road.

Solan stood above him, shifting uneasily in place, his gaze darting in the direction of their destination.

"The trial will be over for the day by the time we get there anyway! It won't hurt to take half an hour to eat, and I've got to have a break. I'm not kidding."

"Okay," Solan agreed reluctantly and led Alpha Seven over by Justin before opening the pack slung over the animal's back which contained most of their food.

The instant dinner was finished Solan rose and turned toward Justin, urging without speaking.

"Oh, come on!" the fourteen year-old complained in open exasperation. "At least give our food a chance to settle."

The look he got back brimmed over with barely controlled impatience, but the son of Xena didn't rush off down the road. Instead he confined himself to restless pacing, much as he had during those days while they were sailing to Eretria and Athens.

Justin went so far as to lay down, hands behind his head, and close his eyes, ignoring the irritated huff of breath from his companion. He'd get up and go in a little while.

Solan's grudging compliance with his wishes had cheered him and not just because he badly needed the food and rest. With the Warrior Prince taking the lead in battle, serving as Justin's instructor in combat and riding, and being so much more physically impressive Justin sometimes couldn't help feeling a little, well . . . inferior. It was almost like Solan really was a Red Ranger, the leader, and he was the Blue follower. It felt good to confirm once again that his companion would listen to him and take what he said into account. They were _partners_, not a hero and his obedient sidekick.

Finally Justin forced himself to his feet. "All right, let's go," he said, but Solan was already about twenty feet down the road by the time he'd finished speaking. Taking Alpha Seven's bridle in hand he followed with a sigh.

"So do you know Hercules?" he asked his companion curiously. That seemed like something which could hardly have failed to come up previously, but the way Solan was acting made him wonder nevertheless.

"What? No! I've never seen him before. I've heard about him all my life, though. Kaleipus used to tell me bedtime stories about him, and sometimes travelers to the village would share news of his deeds. He's a legend! And how is he repaid for all he's done, for all the evil and monsters he's defeated? By being charged with crimes by the Athenians!"

There was an audible edge of contempt in Solan's tone when he spoke the word "Athenians". Had Justin's ill-treatment and that of Hercules soured Solan's view of the entire city? Justin wasn't feeling terribly well-disposed toward the place himself right now, to be honest, but it was still Greece's most important city-state; they couldn't afford to scorn or ignore it.

The rest of the trek back to Athens was mostly made in silence; Solan seemed too consumed with anxious worry for conversation, while Justin simply lacked breath to spare for speech. The teen from another world honestly thought his legs would give out on him before Athens finally came into view and when at last the city's walls did appear he silently swore to himself that there would be no sparring session tonight, no matter what Solan wanted. Not after he'd been dragged on this virtually non-stop forced march!

After they'd passed through the gates their first stop involved stabling Alpha Seven. Barely had this task been accomplished when Solan had asked the way to the jail. He'd immediately set off following the directions he was given and Justin didn't make the mistake of even trying to argue that they should secure lodgings first. It was clear that they were going to see Hercules _now_.

At least that's what they would do if the two guards at the entrance decided to let them in. Knowing his friend's state of mind Justin took care to interpose himself between Solan and the guards. While he had faith that his friend wouldn't snap, beat the duo unconscious and plunge headlong into the jail shouting for Hercules, he had much less faith that the Warrior Prince would be able to restrain himself if one of the pair was dumb enough to shove or try to intimidate him. Painful experience had taught the teen that it was always when Solan was at his most emotional that his self-control was weakest. As much as they needed to see Hercules, it would be best not to accomplish that goal by being tossed in jail alongside him.

"He's with his lawyer right now," the more clean-shaven and homely one told them.

"We'll let you in afterward, once you've surrendered your weapons."

Rather surprisingly for Justin, that condition didn't appear to phase Solan.

"Who's his lawyer? He must have the best one in Athens, right?" the blond boy questioned eagerly.

At this both men burst out laughing. "The man who's prosecuting Hercules, Spensius, _he's_ the best lawyer in Athens!" explained the taller, brown-bearded second guard. "Hercules has got some woman speaking for him!"

"I heard she's a princess," the first man put in.

"Maybe so, but I don't think she's much of a lawyer."

Solan looked crestfallen and the news didn't make Justin happy either. Hercules being convicted would set an awfully bad precedent, at least as far as they were concerned. Could he stop Solan from mounting a jail break if Hercules was actually found guilty?

As the boys gloomily absorbed the news a young woman wearing a bright red cloak emerged from the doorway behind the two guards. Given the expense of dyes it was rare to see such a vividly colorful garment and it was therefore a pleasure to behold, though not nearly so much as the dark blue dress she was wearing underneath! Merely looking at the vivid color did Justin's heart good.

The woman had long, dark hair, some of which was curled into two little conical mounds sitting atop her head and some of which extended downward in two long braids. Justin was reminded of nothing so much as Princess Leia's bizarre hairstyle from the "Star Wars" movies. She also had on circular silver earrings and a necklace with a large metal star medallion hanging from the chain.

"This is his lawyer now," the shorter guard remarked.

"How is the trial going? Is Hercules going to be found not guilty?" Solan demanded without preamble.

"Of course he is!" the woman assured him warmly after a few seconds of surprise. "Hercules is a hero, not a criminal, and soon everyone will see that!"

The confident words seemed to relax Solan, though there was no mistaking the eagerness in his next question, directed toward the guards. "Could I see him now?"

"Weapons!" the taller one demanded.

In a flash Solan had unsheathed his sword and unhooked his chakram, passing both implements of war to the guard without a murmur of protest.

First willing to give up a meal and now surrendering his weapons? Hercules really must be Solan's idol! From what Justin remembered of Greek myths, though, his friend was in for a disappointment.

"Go through the first archway on the right after you enter the building," the guard directed. "Hercules is in the cell at the back of the room."

Solan vanished through the doors, but when Justin went to follow the shorter guard stepped in his way.

"Weapons!" he barked.

Impatiently the fourteen year-old drew and handed over his sword, then followed his companion, disregarding the lawyer's shouted questions.

The large prison chamber was lit by flaming braziers and held not so much cells as giant cages, with the back wall of each being the stone blocks of the building. At a glance most of the prisoners seemed too wretched to require such sturdy confinement, though of course such bars probably wouldn't hold Hercules for a minute.

Justin heard Solan call "Hercules!" and ran to his friend's side, where Solan stood staring into a cage at the back of the room. That area, however, imprisoned not one person, but two, both of whom now turned toward them.

The first was a tall, well-built man with long, light brown hair. He was dressed in an open-necked cloth shirt and leather pants and he wore leather bracers on his thick wrists. His blue eyes were bright and alert, his bearing composed and confident. His tanned complexion was healthy and his well-formed face was clean-shaven.

The other man, standing in the corner of the cell, had very dark brown hair and dark eyes. He wore a large vest of leather armor with two vertical rows of metal studs. His wrist bracers were not leather, but iron. His beard and mustache only added to his rather sinister good looks.

"Now who are these?" the second man asked in exasperation. He gave them the once-over and started to turn back to the first man before doing a genuine double take. Now his scrutiny through narrowed eyes was focused solely on Solan as he examined the blonde from head to toe.

"Who are you?" he asked again, this time in a noticeably more interested tone of voice.

Every instinct Justin had screamed at him that it would be wiser not to answer, but the warning reached his lips too late.

"I am Solan, Warrior Prince and son of Xena!" his best friend declared in a loud, proud voice which must have carried to everyone in the vast room.

Both men looked floored by the revelation, but the bearded man was the first to recover.

"Her son," he whispered. "Her son!"

"Don't even think about it!" the other man warned, but the now grinning figure paid him no heed.

"You and I are gonna talk, kid. Soon," the leather-armored man promised, pointing at Solan. Then his form dissolved into a bright spark of intense light which disappeared into a swiftly evaporating cloud of white mist.

Now it was Justin and Solan's turn to be shocked. They'd seen nothing even remotely like that since they had won their way free from Archon!

"Who or what was that?" Justin asked quietly.

The man remaining in the cell angrily smashed his fists into the bars, causing the whole cage to shake. He sighed deeply before looking up at the two boys.

"That was my half-brother, Ares," he explained.

Ares . . . Justin knew that name!

Ares was the Greek god of war.

ΩΩΩΩΩ


End file.
